Bodhidharmazan III
by TheRedPony
Summary: Rather Controversial so much infact that the Agents title has been stripped by request. Last of the BHZ
1. Does it kill, Does it Burn

**Title: **Bodhidharmazan 3

**Author:** TheRedPony

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **

Matrix universe and associated characters: Wachowski brothers.

Agents universe: co-owned by Stormhawk and Overlord Mordax.

Every thing else is mine Baby.

All Chapters of this story are covered under this Disclaimer.

**Word Count: **9595

**Summary:** The last of the trilogy. In total 36143 words. Wow Any ways we reach the end of Zane's battle for internal peace with his role in the Matrix.

**Notes:** This is a slash based story, but the rating if for violence only. Sequel is now in the works. There is a lot of religious ideas in this story, as there always is in my work.

**Please read and Review.**

Does it kill  
Does it burn  
Is it painful to learn  
That it's me that has all the control  
Does it thrill  
Does it sting  
When you feel what I bring  
And you wish that you had me to hold

**-Maroon Five**

"Well? What is wrong? I need my recruit back to work Agent Jones." Agent Brown was irritated. This was not uncommon, but he was irritated about the state of health of a recruit. This was very uncommon. Jones looked up at him head slightly turned. He was sitting in his chair while Agent Brown loomed menacingly like a dark shadow above him.

Before the smaller agent, a human was laid out on a medical table. Monitor windows hovered like holograms or ghosts in the room. They were free floating pictures like the whole room its self was nothing but a giant computer monitor. Jones reached his arm across the red haired recruit's body and drug one of the shimmering windows to his side of the room.

His fingers brushed through several key spots into the screen, like he was taping at gossamer strands. The window expanded to show a diagram of the recruit's body. Large sections of the diagram mostly around the sides and head were tinged blue, and three sections along his ribs were red.

"As you know to repair these broken ribs after Recruit Kembrick faced Mr. Anderson, a code patch was utilized by Medical Agent Wilson, in these three locations." Jones motioned to the three red bands that out lined the three ribs that Neo had broken. Agents Brown, Smith and Mimosa studied it closely.

"What is a code patch?" Agent Mimosa asked curiously. Agent Brown growled but did not comment on her lack of knowledge. He seemed very distracted.

"Code patches are standard and help to stabiles any damaged code when any recruits or agents face code type weapons."

"But Zane was attacked by Anderson, not by a code weapon."

"Correct but Mr. Anderson puts a considerable amount of strain on coding with the force of his attacks. We have found without proper stabilization damage caused by him tends to heal very slowly. Medical Agent Wilson opted to go ahead and use a code patch with my permission. Code patches are created from the same source code as we are, but they are programmed to repair the damaged sections and then disintegrate. This process takes in whole about forty eight hours." Brown glared at him, and Jones nodded back knowing that he was pushing the patience of the combat agent.

"Zane entered the exile stronghold less then 12 hours after he received the three patches. He was there because the building was surrounded by a particularly nasty firewall. We have since upgraded our personal firewalls and can no longer be harmed by this virus but at the time it was deemed highly dangerous."

Jones passed his hand through the screen again and it zoomed closer to the section near the recruit's ribs. "This virus reacted vigorously to several code markers found inside of our source code. The same source code found inside the code patches used on his ribs. The virus gained access to his personal code and the code of the patch through this manor."

The screen shifted showing the waterfall of symbols that was Zane's code. It was the code that attached his body in the real world, to his avatar in the matrix. Sections of the green flow darted in red. "These high lighted areas show were the virus damaged Zane's personal code. It was extensive, with forty-eight point two percent damaged beyond repair. When he destroyed the fire wall generator the virus died off. While it was strong, it is very short lived with out constantly added power."

Brown eyed the code suspiciously "How do you mean, damaged beyond repair?"

"Simply that he would die if he had to heal naturally. It is uncertain how he was detected by the exiles but on one hand he is very lucky that he had a code patch on him. It started rebuilding the damage almost immediately."

Agent Brown stood stiff "And the other?"

"The patch has glitched due to the virus. It has not and never will dissolved like it was programmed to do."

"What does that mean for Mr. Kembrick?"

"He has forty-eight point two percent of patch code." The screen dilated to show the whole diagram again. "The areas most affected were his eyes. It is uncertain what side effects will come about. His vision may be enhanced, or he may be blind."

"Fix his code," Agent Brown growled.

"I cant if I remove even a section of it, he may destabilize and die."

Smith cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the other three agents. "There is nothing to do but wake him. Are you ready Jones?"

The tech. agent nodded, "Ready sir." Beside him Agent Brown clenched his fists.

Jones required a glass syringe with an ominous looking needle, it contained a crystal like substance, almost metallic in the way it refracted light. He ejected the stimulant in the recruit's neck. The agents gathered near curios to see what his health would be like.

Zane took a deep breath inwards, his throat made a harsh sucking sound like water being drawn out with the tide. The agents looked down in earnest. The recruit opened his eyes. They were green, healthy, and showed no sigh of blindness. Above him the four agents all smiled in different degrees; Mimosa openly, Smith reserved, Jones tentative, and Brown suppressed nearly beyond recognition. It was not for a few moments that they noticed the blue.

It started at the very edges of his iris, it spread out devouring his green eyes. Then it leaked and pooled into his irises making the black opening into bright azure blue sinkholes. They watched in a mixed ballet of shock and amazement. Then all hell broke out.

The blue swirled, and all but the whites of his eyes were etched in the bright and forbidding hue. Zane was breathing still, but his body coiled up. He scrambled getting his legs under himself, then hurled head long onto agent Jones. He knocked the other agent clean to the ground and they somersaulted once before skidding across the floor. Zane fingers made contact and managed to slice a long and bleeding scratch into the side of Agent Jones face.

The next few moments were a blur, as the programs scrabbled to free their comrade. The small recruit was tossed across the room and crashed into the observation window that let to the hallway. The glass warped then splinted and rained down like diamonds covering his skin with a billion tiny serrations. The code from the glass melted into Zane's skin and the cuts flickered green.

Agent Jones rose from the floor and sputtered angrily. "The patch isnt dissolving, each cut makes him more program then human."

Smith looked at him confused. "He is becoming an agent?"

"No the patch is only agent source code, not agent code."

Brown grabbed the agent's tie and forced him to face him. "What is he becoming?" The words were hissed out.

Jones paled wishing he could be telling any one but Agent Brown this. "He will be eaten until his human mind dies and he becomes nothing but an exile, and a monstrous one at that. He can walk through walls, we must fire wall this room now."

Zane stirred then slipped into blackness still surround by shards of glass.

A few hours later the room was empty again, except for some chrome furniture and stark white bed sheets. Zane was sitting crosses legged on top of the medical table, his eyes staring blankly into the white void. He wasn't blinking, but occasionally his eyes would dart to the window that separated the room from the observation hall. No one ever walked by, he was at the end of the hall.

He was hissing through his teeth, and drew his legs up under him. Zane had never been so confused before. He ran his hands over his arms it looked the same, but it felt different. Like he wasn't real anymore. Of course he knew that he had never been real but right now it was more like a dream then it had ever been before.

He held his hands out in front of him self and turned them slowly watching how the light flowed over his finger, he watched until the light became like sticky pooling strand, and then became code. The light flowed over his hands then up his arms. He flailed and try to rip the strands from his skin. Something was fighting his hands, pushing him down on the bed. The code was poring over the room, he tried to scream but it flowed into his mouth and into his lungs.

"What is happing!" Agent Brown screamed as two medical agents rushed into the hospital room were Zane had been lying for the last three hours. It was now twelve hours after the recruit had been torn to pieces by a hail of bullets. He was not expected to wake for several days. His mind was not connected to his body, which is why Zane's sudden screaming and flailing motions were unexpected and worrisome. The recruit was clawing at his skin, and managed to rip his skin in several places.

He was quickly forced down and strapped to the bed. Agent Jones was in the room a few minutes later. He injected the recruit with a silver liquid and Zane quickly relaxed. A slew of diagnostic windows flew open; several diagrams, scrolling screens of code, and all sorts of monitoring charts. Jones frowned then zoomed in on a smaller section of a screen.

"Well what has happened?" Brown bit out.

Jones knitted his browns and turned to face the other agent. "Look at this code pattern. Its the same one that shows up when an agent glitches."

"Zane cant glitch he's human."

"Excuse me, Agent Brown," the one who spoke was a rather tentative looking medical agent. He flinched a bit when the cold gaze of his superior fell on him. "Look Sir," he pointed towards Zane.

Jones and Brown looked down at the redhead recruit. The cuts on his skin were being eaten over in green code, and replaced my healthy skin. Brown looked at Jones horrified. "How is he doing that?"

The smaller agent, poured over his screens then stepped back in shock. "Oh, by the source. We sent him in to a firewall zone designed to eat agent code, with a code patch still in his body. That's why his code is corrupted, that patch is eating his code alive."

"Code patched only make repairs then dissolve"

"This one is malfunctioning, it looks like it trapped his mind in the matrix, he's not connected to his body because he is here."

"He has been uploaded?"

"Exactly."

"Is he agent?"

"No, I don't know what he is. He does not have the backup programming to handle the strain of the incoming code caused by the agent source code inherent to the patch. Our only option is to fill him with the human to agent programming used to upload Agent Mimosa, it should stop eating his mind then. At this point it looks like he is still forty seven point one percent human. I will make the request, you contact Smith."

Shortly Zane was in a new room it was full of computer monitors, and agents of all types. The Source had given its permission. The ruling was that 'There is no reason to allow a well trained recruit to die if he was already uploaded to the system.' The agents were waiting now. Waiting for him to wake up.

The reprogramming had taken several hours but they had managed to halt the progress of Zane's deletion at forty-eight point two percent. Enough that he could not be considered an agent of the system. He was still a recruit, just a programmed recruit. And the agents had gathered from several sectors to watch the birth of this new half-breed.

Some of the agents growled that this was foolish; he would become nothing but an exile. Others whispered that this is what should have been done to Whitman and Mimosa. This half upload was something more controllable. Command agents and field agents watched and wondered if this was to be the future of their sectors. Tech agents barked at subordinates who were running scans and filing data for future use.

In one instant of perfect synchronicity the room came to dead silence and all the faces turned to look at the recruit in the center of the room. His eyes opened and one agent stepped forward to inspect him. Agent Jones, scanned over Zane flow of code, then steeped back and with a nod declared him operational. In small groups the agents vanished from the room, in a soft swirl of displaced code.

Zane blinked once, watched the swirl, then blinked again. This was something new. It was like a sweeping and gentle tide that rushed to fill the vacant places, where agents once had stood. He pondered on this oddity. He now saw not the code as he had seen it dancing on the computer screens, but something more akin to air or water. It simply was and had no need for explanation. He could not see the green katakana that he knew; the code had become such fine strands that he saw it with out vision. Like smoke dancing in the air.

He let his mind fancy that each agent was not an agent but in fact a sort of flickering flame. The code was bright around them, and they shown just softly in the room, highlighted, like they existed slightly above every thing else. When they left, the place around them went out like a light, and the wisps were all that were left. Soon all the agents were gone, all except for one.

Agent Brown stepped into the field of vision were the recruit was staring off into. "Zane, are you well again?" His voice was just a bit flat, a bit more hallow and cold, then if he had been human.

"I am fine Agent Brown" The more human entity's reply however was even more dead sounding.

"You are certain?"

"Yes." He finally turned to face the agent, a bit of malice in his eyes. "When may I return to duty?"

"Soon, I should think. Do you know what you are now?"

"I am me." Zane sounded very innocent and very certain. He turned his head and looked blankly into the room again.

"You are a program."

"I am what I have always been."

The Agent flew around so he was inches from the recruits face. His voice was a muffled scream. "You are a program now, if you become a danger or an exile, I will be forced to delete you Zane. If you are not exactly perfect they will defragment you. Do you understand what that means?" The agent was panting a very human action. " You will be gone forever."

The recruit slipped around Agent Brown, and slid to the cold tile floors. With out thought and with a wisp of his hand, the hospital garment melted in blue and became a black suit with a black shirt and a blue silk tie. In his hand appeared blue mirrored sunglasses. "Agent Brown, I am going on patrol." With out waiting for reply he vanished from the room.


	2. Fifty Thousand miles from home

**Title: **Bodhidharmazan 3

**Author:** TheRedPony

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **

Matrix universe and associated characters: Wachowski brothers.

Agents universe: co-owned by Stormhawk and Overlord Mordax.

Every thing else is mine Baby.

All Chapters of this story are covered under this Disclaimer.

**Word Count: **9595

**Summary:** The last of the trilogy. In total 36143 words. Wow Any ways we reach the end of Zane's battle for internal peace with his role in the Matrix.

**Notes:** This is a slash based story, but the rating if for violence only. Sequel is now in the works. There is a lot of religious ideas in this story, as there always is in my work.

**Please read and Review.**

Sometimes I feel like I'm glad to be free,  
Sometimes I still want your arms around me  
Sometimes I'm glad to have left you behind,  
The Crazy English Summer has put you back on my mind.

Sometimes I feel like i'm fine on my own,  
Fifty Thousand miles from home.  
Sometimes I'm weak and the past is my guide,  
Summer returns and puts you back on my mind

**-Faithless**

Zane found him self-walking through a more slummy part of town then he was used to. He had grown up with money, and had always known it. This area would normally have sent him looking for new trekking grounds, but not today. No longer could he see this place as ugly. There was beauty here too, he realized. Every bit of trash or wisp of hot steam smoking from the sewer grates, even the old mangy alley dogs, each had their own dance and play of code. Humans had eyes he decided, but only programs could really see in this place.

It was raining softly, and gossamer gray clouds muted out the sun. The effect left long draws of code dripping from the sky. It was not green like one would expect but infinitely finite, crystal clear, and stretched like those photographs of rain with the too long exposures. Zane felt a bit like that. Film that was bare and vulnerable by a lens left open. He was alone now, as much as he had ever been.

The agents stood like black writhes; powerful and aggressive, but subtle in there beauty. Humans now seemed dull. They left dent like impressions in the code, that sucked back up to fill the gap when they moved on. Programs like the roaches or the dogs, even the rats he had seen, had an intriguing quietly. He could not place it; he was drawn to them.

Zane had begun to wonder if he would ever see one of the humanistic programs, like the exiles he fought. His question was answered when he walked right into on. He knew her to be a program in an instant. She was beautiful and dressed in cream and soft greens and rose hues. Her skin was dark but she seemed to glow in the drizzling rain. She smiled at him and took his hand.

"She has been waiting for you Zane. I was sent to make sure you found her."

Zane found him self, most unexpectedly riding in an elevator with an exile. It had been a mere twenty some hours since he had awoken ready to squirm his way into an exile strong hold. The maneuver had cost him his human body. Whether is had cost him his humanity was as yet untested. Now instead of slipping in unnoticed he was being ushered by this exile next to him, to see some unknown exile.

The door on the lift opened, and he stepped into a gray hallway. There was graffiti on the walls, and the whole of the place was dingy and only one scummy window let any natural light into the musty space. A yellowed florescent bulb flicked above his head, and he followed the lady in white towards the end of the hall.

She smiled then opened one of the apartment doors. Zane was ushered inside, but he froze only three feet into the room. The woman frowned and touched his shoulder reassuringly. She spoke some words he did not hear, and led him towards the kitchen. He passed several children looking up expectantly at him; there was also a man, an exile in white.

The woman smiled again, she did that a lot. She had said her name at some point but Zane had not listened. His vision, the dance and shimmer of code was over whelming. He did not here the woman who drew up beside him.

"Hello Zane, I wasn't sure you would make it on your own."

He started and turned to face an older black woman standing beside him. "How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot about you Zane. You have caught my attention because you just may be the one I have been looking for?"

He stepped back. "Who are you?"

"Some call me the Oracle."

"You're the one who helps the rebels."

"No I help those who need helped."

"Well I don't need helped, I'm a recruit."

"Are you sure about that Zane? How many recruits have been like you? Recruits are human. What are you?"

Zane was silent for a moment, then replied "I am a program, and I am a recruit. The agents are programs so I can still serve."

"Programs have a purpose Zane. What is your purpose?"

His answered failed him then. He looked to the woman, lost and confused. "I do not have one. Am I an exile then?"

"Exile is a choice not a sentence. You must know what you are before you can make that choice. Turn around Zane, and read the sign above the door. It says 'Know They Self', I told Neo the same thing."

"I don't want to be like Neo. It is because of him that I am here now."

"I know. I sent him."

"You're the reason I lost my life, and the one I love?"

"Do you not walk now, do you think he loves you no longer?"

"I may walk, but I am just a shadow of code. I am not whole any more."

"Do you think of Agent Brown as just a shadow. How true can your love if you do not see him as a person."

"Don't say that. He is a person. I love him."

"You can not give love, until you can love your self. Agent Brown must learn from you. You must show him love."

"I don't know how."

"He can feel what you feel Zane. He knows your every emotion." Zane blinked and looked started at her. He felt violated; the agent was stealing his emotions and had never said word of it. "I see the anger in your face Zane, but know that it was you who gave him this gift. With your kiss you showed him your every emotion. You linked your code to his."

Zane collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs; is anger melting like salt in the rain. "What have I done to him?"

"You have shown him the light. The agents need love." She smiled softly. "Only when the two sides can learn to love and understand each other can there be peace?"

"I do not think there will ever be peace."

"With the way the sides see each other now? No never."

He looked up at the motherly woman "If there was peace, we could be together. No more would families be ripped apart. No more recruits would die. The death would end. I want this." He smiled hopefully.

"I knew I had found something good, when I spotted you Zane. Go out to the living room and see Seraph." She walked to a drawer then opened it and removed a small silver key with an intricate oriental pattern carved into it. Smiling she pressed it into his hands. "Give him this. He will take you were you need to go. When you find your answers you can come back."

He bowed his head respectfully "Thank you Oracle. Perhaps I am more lost then I thought before."

Zane looked around him. Every were was stone, twisting bare branches, and heavy low lying fog. The land was frosted and the crystals of ice glittered in the muted light. It was a garden, but it was barren and dead in its winter form. There was even a pond but this was frozen over in cloudy ice and nothing below its surface could be seen. Zane shivered and rubbed his arms before forcing himself to remember that this world was not real. He was not really cold.

"What is this place Seraph?"

"This is the White Garden. It will show you all you need to know. Right now it has been neglected. Keep the key, for you are the new Master of the White Garden, its protector and caretaker."

They had entered this place via a door in the oracles home, opened by that silver key, which Seraph was now placing in his hand.

"This place is mine?"

"Yes, bring it to life." The man in the white coat smiled then turned down the far path. "Remember Zane you are the Master of the White Garden. You might rethink the suit." With that he stepped into the mist and melted away into the abyss.

Zane frowned while looking around. The place was most overgrown. To start with he would need to trim away the massive amounts of vines and branches that were stifling the life from the garden.

Tucked behind some maple trees he found a small house with a sleeping matte, may sets of white robes, food stores, and of course garden tools. The house was built with rose wood, and made with intricate interlocking joints, so that no screws or bolts were needed. The doors were made of rice paper screens and it was just enough to keep the snow out. In the back was a bathhouse with a place to light a fire to heat the tub above. In all it was a cozy home, though he was thankful he did not feel the cold, for the building had no insulating ability.

From the garden tools, he selected a strong sturdy saw and chisel and hammer, some salve for cut trees, and two pairs of hand pruners. He took his new treasures and set to work.

The moon had grown full and faded to black two times in cycle now, and Zane was proud of his garden. The juniper had been taken back to there primitive bonsai forms sprouting from between the boulders like miniature windswept trees. The maples had been taken back to graceful forms. He had chopped and stacked wood in neat piles. Some had been split to make planting boarders. Bark was striped and crumbled to make mulch and mixed with raked leaves for fine plant cover.

He had even learned to use the clamps, chisels and saws, to cut shingles for the roof of his quaint hose, were it leaked. He sharpened his tools often to fill the time. Bulbs were planted and clumps of ornamental grasses were dug and divided to fill the beds. He had even set boulders to build stone benches and sitting areas in the garden. His heart ached to see even one bloom though. No mater how much he worked, the garden refused to yield even a single flower.

He was sitting on one of those stone benches pondering a few clumps of iris leaves that were poking through some of the last drifts of snow. The garden was coming back to life, but it was taking forever. The weather was becoming more spring like by the day. Still the fog never lifted. Day and night his garden was shrouded in mist. This before had never bothered him, but he sat up suddenly and looked down the path as far as he could see. Then he turned his head and looked down the other way.

Too his left he could see the pond and his little house, beyond that was the stand of cheery trees, and past that was the path fading into the mist. He looked right, and saw the beds were he had planted red spider lilies and beds with the black irises. Just past that was the oldest bonsai tree in the garden that stood just a hand higher then his head, up on its rocky perch. Just a bit further that path rounded a bend and vanished in the mist.

For two months he had worked and lived in this garden and never wondered what was down the path. He stood and walked towards the old bonsai, then past it nearing the bend. He was quite pleased to find that the path did indeed go on, and he smiled as he neared a cherry grove.

His face quickly feel when he saw the white ribbons flashing in the trees, were he had tied them. He ran forward and found him self at the end of his garden, near his home. He turned around and ran back the way he had come only to run smack into the rocky out cropping that the old bonsai called home. The path did not loop. It was arrow straight. The end of the garden was only the beginning again.

He spent all his energy that day, running back and forth on the paths attempting to fathom what was happening. He walked it slowly, he ran quickly, every thing he did found him unable to break through the mist. Once he even tried tying a ribbon to the bonsai but when he reached the other end of the path, and saw the white cloth flapping, ghost like in mid air, it was enough to scare him into not doing that again.

Finally he was hot and tired and just gave up. He carried his tools back, wound up the white ribbon and went to bed with out the comfort of any food, though he did not need any. He was the master, but it appeared he was also the prisoner of his own garden.

That morning Zane woke with resolve. He loved his garden and he did not really need to see past it any ways. He gave up worrying about the path and rose with a smile on his face. He whistled with the birds and hummed to the song of the creek that flowed into the now thawed pond. In his panic yesterday he has missed the ice breaking up.

He surveyed the garden and strolled along the beds sipping warm green tea. Something bright caught his eye, and he reached down to dust the last bits of snow away. He smiled. His hand was brushing a brilliant blue iris bloom. He laughed with joy in his heart. The garden was coming to life.


	3. At the center of the sun

**Title: **Bodhidharmazan 3

**Author:** TheRedPony

**Rating: **PG

**Disclaimer: **

Matrix universe and associated characters: Wachowski brothers.

Agents universe: co-owned by Stormhawk and Overlord Mordax.

Every thing else is mine Baby.

All Chapters of this story are covered under this Disclaimer.

**Word Count: **9595

**Summary:** The last of the trilogy. In total 36143 words. Wow Any ways we reach the end of Zane's battle for internal peace with his role in the Matrix.

**Notes:** This is a slash based story, but the rating if for violence only. Sequel is now in the works. There is a lot of religious ideas in this story, as there always is in my work.

**Please read and Review.**

And he sings  
'They break the most beautiful things  
But I hear violins, when I close my eyes  
I am at the center of the sun  
And I cannot be hurt  
By anything this wicked world has done  
I look into your eyes  
And I am at the center of the sun  
And I cannot be hurt  
By anything this wicked world has done'

-**Conjure One**

A year had passed in all, with Zane's time in the garden. It was a stunning place. No longer did the snow touch the ground, for all the garden was locked in a perpetual prime, because Zane, it's master willed it to be.

The cherry trees were snowy with pale pink petals. Jasmine climbed and bloomed and filled the place with a thick and heady perfume. The iris beds were cascading over the stone planter sides that he had built. Even the old juniper bonsai seemed to glow with love and life. The garden had changed.

Zane had changed as well. He now found his black suit claustrophobic and oppressive, so instead he wore a loose white silk shirt. It was Asian in style and a fitting match to the plants of the garden. He also had white pants that matched. Normally white would not be wise for working in the earth, but he had learned how to keep them dazzling white with only a flick of his wrist.

Along with the coming of life of the garden, the fog had lifted so that the sun now shown pleasantly down in the day. At night the moon was clear and the stars more numerous and more dazzling then one could ever see in the matrix. Though the thick mists persisted outside the parameters, in the garden it was always pleasant.

The many hours each day in the sun had bleached Zane's pale read hair to near white. His short hair had grown out in the many months so that he now tied it behind him with a white ribbon, and often a white flower tucked into it. It was almost a divine effect. Soft reds, fading to white. He looked every bit the master of the white garden.

More then once the bright sun had burned him, but using plants from the garden he now kept his skin protected. His complexion was as pale as it had ever been because of this. But other things had changed about the man too.

Long hours of hard work and more hours of meditation, and practice had crafted his small body into a formidable weapon. He could no longer walk through walls like he once had, but his new programming let him dodge with explosive movements, and jump sailing through the air. If his body had become more deadly then his mind had become gentle as a cloud.

Zane's heart and love grew to fill the garden, but still the nights were long and lonely. For many hours he would sit in the moonlight and play a flute he had crafted out of bamboo. The air would reverberate with sadness and the flowers would hang their heads in grief. With his flute he would play his heart and told them the story of complete love.

He longed wholly to be back in the agency. To be back with Agent Brown. At first the feeling of being overwhelmed by the dark auras of the agents had been enough to drive him away. And the garden in its massive state of disrepair had filled his hours with numbing work. Now his hours in the garden were less taxing, and his mind always wondered back to one person.

He shed no tears for his lost love, but his heart grieved non-the less. He had been gone from the agency for over a year, surely the agent had forgotten him by now. All he needed to become an exile now, was death.

Summer fell upon the garden, and the cherry trees leafed out and were laden with sweet fruits. Zane no longer needed to eat so he fed his crop to the birds. The weightless creatures warbled and sang thanks to him. They because his dear friends and Zane would hold them gently on his fingers while they ate from his hands. The seed heads of the springs spent flowers became his searching grounds for things to feed them.

He grew to envy the birds that flew in and out of the garden. They were not its prisoners like he was. He did not know exactly when his thoughts had changed to thinking this a prison. Was it not the place that had given him his sanity back? Of course it was. In the agency he had felt like a cornered rat. The swirls of code were disorientating they drove him into the rain, and into the care of the Oracle.

It was a late afternoon, when the birds fell silent. His companions fluttered away and vanished out in the mist. His heart skipped and Zane drew a long handled sickle out of the air. Its shaft materializing in his hand. He could feel a new presence in his garden.

He did not like it at all.

It originated from down the far path, the one that turned near the oldest juniper. It was a slight swirling of the code as faint as a wisp of smoke but it felt like the coming of a firestorm. The garden master raised his blade so it glittered in the sun, his will filled the path head with blinding light. He stood stone still, never showing the fear in his heart.

Out of the light strode a being that looked his opposite. He was tall were Zane was short, the man had trimmed black hair, were his was long and pale. The black heavy cloaks that were priest like a stark contrast to the light and snowy silk of Zane's outfit. He was human; he was the savior of men, where Zane was a program and one in total limbo.

Zane raised his blade in a ready but non-aggressive position. "Why are you here Neo?"

"The Oracle sent me Zane."

"To finish me? So that I may finally be able to chose exilehood or death?" His voice seemed almost hopeful.

Confusion showed on the man's face. "No, Not at all. She said you might like some company. You have been in the garden for three weeks now."

"Not three weeks, over a year and a half. The moon has changed near nineteen times now, and I have seen all the seasons but fall twice."

"This is the White Garden, its whole manner is what you make it. She said that you have made it your prison."

Zane sat on a stone bench and motioned for Neo to join him sitting. "This place is no prison of my making, I can not leave. The paths just loop and lead back to the garden. I have tried to walk into the mist but I have always gotten turned and ended up back here. I can not leave."

"Gardens can only be crafted so far with your hands, you must use your heart to finish them. You closed your heart to the outside. So you closed your garden too."

Zane stood quickly and faced Neo. "And how should you know about gardens. You fight to bring people into a dead world. How is that more prison then the matrix? Why must we suffer to think we are free?" He slumped down into the bench again. "This place is perfect, but it's not enough. Nothing is even enough is it?"

"No, there is always something bigger that we must have."

He smoothed his faded hair back with an absent hand. "This place is perfect but I entertain thoughts of death, because I feel trapped. Like the door out is just beyond my touch. Like all the answers are on the other side of that mist."

"Now you know why we rebels fight for what we do."

"Our side fights because this is our home," Zane hissed out.

"This is your home. It's stunning, but you don't want do you. You would rather be fighting the fight for the imperfect then staying safe in this little cyber cocoon."

Zane smiled, "Ya know, I have never seen an agent kill an innocent person. Rebels do it all the time."

Neo smiled back, "Yes but tell me, have you ever met a truly innocent person. Who does not have at least some stains on their conscience?"

"There not so bad you know."

"Who?"

"The agents, Smith is actually a rather nice guy; he takes good care of his recruits. Agent Mimosa is once of the nicest people I have ever known. Then there is agent Jones. If you ever have any problems you can just ask him, it seems like he can fix any thing."

"They are just programs."

"Programs are people too. I am a program I am a person. You're the cause, you're the reason why I am in this hell. Your the reason why I am stuck here god knows how many miles from him" Zane has risen to his feat and was speaking angrily down at the other man.

Neo nodded, "Its alright Zane. You just needed a little reminder."

"Of what?"

"That just because you no longer have a body, does not mean you can't still fight for the good guys."

"They are my friends, they are good!" He jabbed Neo with his index finger to drive in his point.

Neo put his hands up in mock defense. "Just relax Zane. I understand. I'm not here to convert you. The oracle asked me to see you as a favor."

Zane sighed, and pulled two teacups from the air. He handed one to Neo, then sat down slowly. "Forgive me Mr. Anderson, I was not raised to be such a rude host, but I have lost every thing in my life."

"The him you spoke of?"

"Yes... No. I said them. I meant them."

Neo smiled and elbowed Zane playfully. "You never said anything about the forth agent. I hear that Brown is a real jerk. Unless you care to inform me otherwise." He was grinning. "And its Neo."

Zane snorted. "Fare enough, Neo then. But I refuse to tell you any thing. You're still a rebel, with a war to win."

"You have my word that I will hold it secret."

"Word of a rebel?"

"Is it any better then the word of a traitor?"

Zane shrugged "I guess not. But I'm still not going to tell you."

"You don't have to. I can see it in your eyes. You wear your heart on your sleeve Zane. Can he love you back? He is just a program... sorry. No offence."

"No it's alright. I wondered the same thing. They are programs meant to learn though. Their emotions are crafted by what they see and know. Rebels taught them fear and hate. They are learning other things though."

"Like love?"

"Ya, like love." Zane smiled distantly.

"So then Zane, open up your heart, tear down the walls of the garden. Let your self go and return to him."

"Its not that easy. They don't just take people back. If I go I have only one shot. If they won't take me, I will die."

"But you're a program you could just become an exile if you died."

"Agents hunt exiles. It's their job. If trinity was uploaded, and became an agent, if she were to hunt you, to try and kill you, would it not destroy you inside? What if you had one chance to have her back, but if you missed it you would be hunted by her until she killed you."

"I would take my chances. With out love, life is not worth a thing. That's why we have to fight so hard to hang on to what we have."

"Thank you Neo."

"For what?"

"Reminding me."

Neo stood up with a smile and bowed his head to Zane, standing he returned the gesture. They shook hands, and Neo turned in a flourish receding back down the path. After a few minuets Zane slumped to the ground, with his back against the hard edge of the bench. I killdeer was singing near the cherry trees, and the wind blew from the west. A stray lock fell and his white hair caressed his face.

Then it was morning, and the sun had not even cleared the stand of birch trees yet. Zane had spent the night in fast and meditation. He had taken his sickle, and wrapped the five-foot handle in white silk, intricately braided, so that the rich cherry wood showed through under the bends of silk. The end of the ribbons hung from the base of the blade they, all eight in varying lengths so they fluttered like feathers in the wind.

He left his home with new light, tucking a twine of jasmine onto the silk folds, he set off towards the mountains to the south that just peaked out of the fog, he called goodbye to the little rosewood house, the birds and the koi in the pond. Then opening his heart, he let the music of the code wash over him, like rays of the sun, they felt warm and calming. Closing his eyes, we could feel in the distance others. He was no longer alone, his code was calling to the mainframe, the same way an agent's calls for home.

Sun light flashed off the silver key tied with cobalt blue cord that hung from Zane's neck, mirrored blue sun glasses were a bright contrast to the deadly weapon wrapped in innocently looking white silk. His body, or his blade take your pick. Behind the dark shades his eyes were bright, we was in a new place now. Crossing the mountains had been easy, they seemed to yield like steps to him, and though he had left the garden days ago, time had passed like merely an hour for him, even the jasmine had not began to fade.

He stood now, in front of a dazing ocean, the sea crashed in white pillows of coded foam. All around him the sounds of the sea churned and danced. In the blue abyss he felt like he could see the water programs, like nymphs who were calling for him to swim with them. Join the water forever. This was the end of the world, the place were the fringes of the matrix, melted into the hard wiring of the real.

He listened to the water programs and they sang to him, telling him how the train ran in the tunnel, making the waters moan. They promised him knowledge, and peace, contentment beyond any he could imagine. The drug like song of the sea muddled his thoughts, and he stepped into the foam.

The icy cold jogged him back to life, gasping he pulled back, the water nymphs raised there hideous heads and screamed, clawing at his legs, trying to drag him into the water. Kicking he flung him self out of the sea, and clawed onto the safety of the shore. He huffed and rolled in the white sand so that he faced the sky, and then fainted.

Zane woke to a hot blast of air on his face, his eyes fluttered open to meet a pair of dazzling blue ones. He reached a hand out to touch the broad cream colored forehead. He knew at once that this was no ordinary horse, knowledge flowed between them, and Zane knew the horse, who was Zephyrus, like a brother.

Standing and brushing off the sand, he stroked the neck of the great white beast. He was not the false white of many people's assumption. He did not have the ugly black nose that gray horses had. Instead his was a soft creamy pink, and his eyes were not dark but bright azure blue all the way into the depths of his iris. Zane removed his glasses, and melted them back into code with a flick of his wrist. He had found his purpose, for when he touched the pale stallion, who was the mix of all colors of horses, his eyes also melted into that blue depth, that same that had taken him when he glitched.

Sinking back to the sand Zane drew from the code strands of pure white leather. For many hours he sat braiding and turning buttons with the leather. Silver hardware that glittered in the setting sun was also formed in his hard. When he was finished, Zane stood, and strokes Zephyrus again, who had never left his side. The white and silver bridle easily slipped onto the stallion's head, and its silver furling shone like diamonds. As a final touch, Zane drew forth a slip of cobalt ribbon, which matched the one that held the key around his neck. He tied it to the bridle, near the right ear, and it fluttered in a gentle breeze that always seemed to surround the horse. Zephyrus gave a snort and tossed his head but did not object.

Zane could feel that the animal wanted badly to leave this haunting beach. Night had fallen and while it was beautiful, the songs of the water programs were alluring and disturbing. Silently, Zane gathered up his reins and sickle in his right hand, and swung himself onto the back of the tall stallion. Silently he gave thanks that he had continued riding horses even during his time as a recruit, sitting upon the horse he felt comfortable and secure, like they belonged together.

'It is not by chance you rode then Zane, my brothers and sisters of the wind called to you. Every thing has a reason.' Zane absently, touched the stallions neck and knew they could hear one another's thoughts.

'You are a more amazing program then I realized before. Your thoughts Zephyrus, they touch my mind like a passing breeze, and I know them.'

'And I yours. Brother Zane, our kind has waited for along time for the one who would ride us again.'

'You are not shamed to have a human on your back?'

'It is our purpose to carry the wind and yours now too. You are now the master of the horses of the wind, my self and my brothers Boreas, Eurus and Notus. Our subjects are the horses of the Matrix.'

Zane looked at the stallion with new admiration. 'You truly are the west wind?'

'I am'

'Then you can go any were that the wind can touch?'

'This I can, and you my master have the right to ride me there. Just think it and I will know, I know all places in the Matrix, that is how I found you.'

'The wind in the White Garden, always came from the west.'

'Because I was watching you, my brother.'

Zane thought hard about the lobby of the agents building, his legs tightened and Zephyrus read skyward. They dissolved on the breeze like smoke and were gone.

Agent Smith was standing in the lobby of the Agency. In the crypt like room of glittering stone there was many men and women in crisp black suits. They all buzzed and hummed like bees, fluttering about the area, running papers to be delivered. Highly polished shoes clicked rhythmically in a tap tap pattern that urged for even grater productivity.

Smith glared at the recruit who shuffled up next to him. He was about to could him, he was late as usual. Before he could speak however; he was interrupted. A huge crash was heard form the far end of the lobby, all the doors flew open and interns and secretaries dove to the floor.

Standing at the far end, amidst a torrent of flying leaves and paper was a huge white horse, and upon him, a man dressed in white. He had dark sunglasses that glinted blue against the back lighting. In his left hand were remarkable white and silver braided reins. In his right was a long handled sickle wrapped in white and dressed in jasmine sprigs.

"Exile," Smith hissed between his teeth and drew his gun. The other agents were at his side in moments, having found suitable hosts. "Who ever you are, freeze."

The figure turned its head to face the agents, his hair was completely white, and blew around him like a halo, light from the street streamed in so that the figure and the horse seemed to glow. The stallion gave a half rear, and a deep neigh that sounded like rolling thunder. The man ran his left hand up the neck of the horse to steady it, and then spoke.

"Have I been gone so long Agent Smith? I was not in a place were I knew time well."

Agent Brown started and lowered his gun, the other agents glanced at him and hesitated but held there aim.

Smith spoke again, "State your name or I will shoot." Brown placed on the other agents arm and gently lowered the gun.

"It is Zane" he whispered.


End file.
